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Fantasy Help Wanted: Reward Upon Completion Seperate Thread

The Inkeeper

Protector of The Weary
The sky has just fallen into a natural still of dark silence as you approach the Inn in the peculiar village you have stepped into. Three heavily-build bald men can be seen the the torchlight at the front-right corner of the building, scowling and growling at most of the patrons crowding the entrance. They seem to be conversing among themselves fairly seriously, giving poisonous glances at anyone who dares get too close. Around the front-right corner a large sign can be seen holding the Inn's name, brandished "The Drumbling Stunk", and several posters of all sorts that are carefully nailed to the thick board.


You slowly look up from the crumpled, weathered parchment you had received just days before, finally having arrived at this shanty but quaint Inn in the dimming sunlight. You fold the paper carefully and put it back into your pack. You didn't bring much, but what did you expect to bring to a new life of adventure? With a short readjustment, you quickly walk to the door as the smell of heavy brew and bar-cooking fills the room. Laughter and shouting can be heard from inside and you feel both brave and nervous of what lies behind.


The inside of the Inn seems smaller on the outside, and almost seems physically improbable for the amount of patrons at its tables. Small candles are lit at each table, but the majority of the main barroom has been illuminated by a large cooking fire in the center of the room, with the tables set up in rings around the fire pit. The bar stands at the opposing end, facing the door. The room is bustling with life just as the outside is, and several bald men as seen from outside are tending to the patrons of the bar.
 
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Mordred ignored anyone around him and pulled his hood over his face. He looked up at the sign pulling out the paper he received. "This is the place",he said with a huff,"Hope I'm not late." Before he approached the man standing in front he noticed three men acting rudely to people and smiled at them. "But before I proceed looks like some people need to be taught a lesson",he said mischievously. His eyes gave a faint yellow glow and vines wrapped around their feet, only enough to do what Mordred wanted not enough to be noticed, the vines pulled around their feet and the three men tripped over on each other then the vines pulled back into the like they weren't there. As this happened Mordred moved into the crowd unnoticed by them and approached the man greeting people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Larry earnestly strolled over the crest of the hill, he'd made it, despite having gotten horribly lost and despite the fact that not too many people knew of the travers exact location. He set his eyes on the building, took a deep and happy breath, before strolling down towards it and the commotion that was happening out the front.


Larry approached the venu and noted the tall, scary men who seemed to be guarding the place. He reached into his pocket for the letter, just in case it was needed. He figured he may need to blag his way in but, that would not be problem for a performer such as himself...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




Emmanuel stares at the inn and thought 'Finally, hope this is worth it.' He takes off his hood and mask, and notice all the ruckus between some of the costumer. Emmanuel is trying to find the man who gave him this letter when he noticed a large man who seemed to be greeting , he then went up to the man and took out the letter that was given to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




"Good lord." Tolderin thought, standing before the scene at the tavern. Reaching into the worn satchel at his side, he pulled out the letter he scavenged. He assumed the man he took it from, too drunk to leave his seat, had little use of it. Positioning it in the sunlight, he glanced down and up a couple times just to be sure. "This is it.." he said silently. Then he took a moment, and looked back, considering everything leading up to this point. Leaving home for the first time, never saying goodbye, then returning in shame and defeat, now to be standing here. He turned and a sly smirk grew on his old face.


Hobbling forward on his fabricated leg, or "This damned thing" as he could be overheard calling it, he made his way through the crowd and chaos outside of the inn. A few feet from the door he noticed the doorman abandon his post to help up a group of men finding themselves ass up. Shaking his head, he entered at last.


Small, was the first word that came to mind as he made his way among the many patrons. As he shifted and made his way to the bar, he was sizing up the people he passed, using his experience to gauge who may be adventuring, and playing a game of wondering how long they would have lived had they been in his shoes. The smirk returned as he reached the bar, slapping down on it twice and holding up a single finger. The cold refreshing ale met his lips, while he turned and waited, gazing still around the crowd.
 
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Tankard stood behind the bar expectantly as the second group of adventurers approached. The crowd inside thinned out quite a bit from before, now that the day was winding to its eventual end. "Aye, another set of 'em! Have a sit down while I get ya a drink," He began as the young adventurer first approached him, "I'll be frank, the biggest lot of 'em already left". Tankard pours out drinks before setting three along the bar, "Once yer done your drink, show Mister there my letter and he'll head ya down to the cellar."


Tankard moves around the counter to the large firepit to remove large portions of food, serving them to several of The Stunk's patrons. As Tankard's pace begins, a conversation between a few men starts to get heated, and as their voices rise they quickly gain other's attention. Before anybody could begin to interject, the men begin to brawl, hastily grasping at chairs and mugs for weapons. Tankard, with long heavy strides, begins to descend down upon them, dispatching the fight and removing the drunks with post-haste.
 
Emmanuel grabs Tankard shoulder gently "Allow me.", he then walks towards the brawl and takes out his sword then yelled loudly with a deep and intimidating voice "If the fight does not stop in the next second I will gladly cut all your arms off!" Then the fighting stopped, "Good" Emmanuel then sheathed his blade "Carry on".


Emmanuel sit back down to finish up his ale, after he's finished, Emmanuel went to the man, with the letter in his hand and went down to the cellar. @killgor911
 
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Larry slipped in behind an old man, the welcomer seemingly distracted. As he entered and his eyes adjusted to the dim light levels within, a big grin developed on his face. He was awestruck, not by the tavern itself as it was pretty rudimentary, but by the amount of people revelling inside. It was a diverse crowd to be sure, featuring a whole bunch of different cultures and species. As he walked to the bar, he took it all in and was generally overshadowed by everyone in there. Hulking brutes bumped him as the walked past, nearly knocking him to the floor, and he had to dodge a few flying bottles and messy spills. Most of the patrons ignored his small stature whilst a few eyed him suspiciously as if he didn't belong. He shrugged it off and kept smiling.


Eventually he reached the bar and climbed onto a stool. The bar seemed quite tall itself and he found it necessary to seat himslef higher so that he could be seen. He pulled out his letter and slapped it down on the counter "One of your finest ales good sir!" he cried with glee. The barman glanced at the letter and then looked the young man up and down. He grunted and smirked before filling a tankard and placing it down In front of his newest patron. As he did so Larry lent in and tapped the letter he had placed on the bar "Oh, and I'm here for the...err...private party" he gestured with two fingers on both hands as he spoke the last two words. He nodded at the barman knowingly before sitting back and taking the frothy brew to his lips...


Tankard is taken aback by the rough actions presented by the adventurer before him, but allows him to break up the fight before chuckling to himself. "Aye, 'spose we should get to business! Mister, keep the place standing, eh?"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The basement was a sharp contrast to the lively bar overhead. Very little of the jubilant activity could be heard through the walls and ceiling, which gave the place an even more eerie feeling. Tankard stood beside the stairwell as the adventurers stepped down, gauging their reactions as they entered the darkly lit room. Tankard has Mister close the trap door as the last of the adventurers, an armor-clad gent with sharp features, enters the room. They all sit for a moment in silence, listening to one another's sharp breath. The room itself was easily capable of holding all of the group, with a large table set in the middle. Candles were articulately placed on the table, providing light to what could now be seen as a map. Large X's had been hastily scribbled in places on the map where the trails or paths seemed to end. Smaller circles were also drawn onto the parchment, almost twice or three times as many as the X's.


Tankard's face became grim as he gazed over the map, "I present to you the malign nature of this offer. This map shows you just the size of our problem. Every X, a path that leads nowhere, several days travel for naught. Every O..." Tankard pauses and takes a slow shaky breath, "Every O is a man I've had down there. My letters have been sent far and wide to every mop-pusher and sword-swinger that can knock something over with a sneeze. Every last one of 'em ended up here for me, and all of 'em is in the dirt today. You've been brought here to change that."


"This showed up two weeks from today.."


Mister stalked from his post beside the trapdoor and stood before the wall next to a door, torches set next to it. The door stood as tall as Tankard, and perhaps even wider than himself. A chilling sensation crawls up the neck of any and all that look upon it, and only grows as time goes on. Small inscriptions could be seen in the woodwork of the door, but in a language that isn't recognized in the average repertoire of ones used today. Tankard nods to Mister before continuing, "All of ya are here, to go through that door. The door will lead to a dungeon of sorts, with all your average creatures and critters you'd find in any ol' spooky mysterious dungeon. I'd like you to find a way through the dungeon, and find what brought it here. Stop it, and you get to keep anything you find in there, bodies or not. Don't stop it, and... I don't expect to see much of ya afterwards. Together or apart, that's a decision made by the rest of ya, but I wouldn't advice goin' in without some friendly eyes to watch your back."


"If ya want to grab a glass of milk before returnin' to yer mama, I'll give it free of charge. Now'd be the time to leave," he motions towards trapdoor which Mister opens, "or you can be part of Tankard's Legendary Corps. If you got the guts, I got the job."
 
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..."Will there be a garunteed reward if we stop it? I don't want to go to a place where all the stuff I loot is worthless" It wasn't normally for Emmanuel to ask for a reward, but after seeing the map and hearing the man's explains what's the job, he just want to see if this is worth it. ((Sorry for being short, I had to go to my classes))
 
Larry looked on silently at the map. He realised he had little idea of what was really going on. He momentarily thought that, perhaps, he was in over his head and that the sound of free milk wasn't a bad offer. But then he remembered why he was here. Why he couldn't go back to such a simple and pitiful life. As much as he loved his father, he didn't want the same existence even if it was arguably better than most of the people in the city. He swallowed down his thoughts and feelings and rose, a small figure in the darkness. As if to answer the other adventure who had just spoken, Larry spoke quietly but confidently "Adventure is its own reward..."
 
Mordred approaches the large man. The man saw him and comments,"Another guest, I have it? C'mon in and we'll have a chat with ya, eh?" Mordred was about to respond when the mans hand hit his back and almost knocked him over. The man pushed Mordred to the door and said,"You're a bit late to the party.."


"I thought so",Mordred said quietly to himself and walked inside. As he looked around he noticed the Inn looked much larger than he expected. "Either they have some sort of magic on this place or their good at designing",he joked to himself and looked at the bar,"Uh, guess those people outside worked here...Oh well they still could have been nicer",he said as he walked to the bar and sat down waiting for some action.


Mordred walked over to the bar and grabbed his drink and quickly downed it not really wanting to waste time. After he was finished he gave the man his letter and descended into the cellar. Where a map lay on a table and a strange door, with symbols that reminded him of ones he use to see in old Druid ruins, in the back wall.


As Mordred listened to what the man had to say and studies the map he had some suspicions of what the door was, but said nothing about them. "I don't care about any money or valuables and adventuring is fun, but I do want any artifacts we may find inside",Mordred said plainly yet with a pang of seriousness.
 
"Aye, that'd be the case for any normal adventure. To be simple, I've thrown so much supplies into this I doubt you'd be able to crawl through that shit-hole without findin' somethin' of mine worth value." Tankard thinks for a short minute before procuring a pouch of coins in his hands and throwing it only the table with a sizable thud. "That's 'bout the weight of my hand, and plenty more if yer lookin' for gold. With what we may find in this place, each of ya could have my weight in gold!" Tankard suggests with a heavy and hearty laugh.


One of the adventurers begins to chime in about rewards, saying the work is reward on its own, to which yet another agrees - more or less. "Anything you find past that door is up for grabs for anybody I send in there that can make it out. Artifacts, hides, teeth, claws, stones, anything. As long as ya get the job done and find out what brought it to my damned bar!" Mister then takes a few steps forward, approaching Tankard and quietly saying something to him before stepping back. The jolly man's face begins to slowly grow more grim before he addresses the group before him, "The real problem now is the door won't open."
 
Despite his previous comment, Larry still gazed hungrily at the coin purse as it hit the table with a satisfying thud and the thought of more riches got him quite excited. Yet he restrained himself, the serious tone and no nonsense face of the two men holding this meeting made him feel slightly apprehensive about his immediate future should he go on but still the talk of bountiful rewards spoke to him strongly. Maybe he could afford his own kingdom one day. It would be a place where all 'funny people' were treated with respect. He faded out for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, but then the man spoke again. Something about the a door being locked. "Don't you have a key?" He remarked...
 
"Perhaps ya didn't catch it when I said, this good-for-nothin' dungeon appeared here two weeks ago. Whoever put it here was kind enough to throw some of his killer pets in the place, but if ya wouldn't know it - forgot to give me the key while they were at it!" Tankard says with a huff, throwing his arms around over his head. He waddles over to the door, inspecting the door further. "To be honest, I don't even see a damn key-hole!" With the utterance, the door slowly swings open, a chilling breeze sweeping through the room, almost - one would say - attempting to drag the adventurers through its doorway and into the dark unknown of the hallway on the other side.


Tankard quickly takes a step back from the door as it opens, turning to glance at Mister before turning his attention to the small second party of adventurers he had on his hands. "I guess that's yer cue to find some friends. Right before you lot came around, I sent another party in, so if you can find 'em, they're on our side. Just be careful.. Not everything alive in there is.."
 
Mordred listened to what Tankard said about the rewards and the door. When he said it wouldn't open Mordred was contemplating to use his magic to open it. He really didn't want to because the others might find out he isn't a simple magic user, but a Druid. Gladly though as the conversation went on the door swung open. Mordred smiled and looked at Tankard,"It's possible the the dungeon wasn't even sent to you. It could be alive and chose you to be its dungeon master. You bring it people to test and if the people win you are rewarded",he said as he walked up to the door. "If you are its dungeon master than you are the key",Mordred stated and walked into the dungeon and turned to wait for the others.
 
Larry moved cautiously to the door, the words of the other adventurer confusing him even more. What if this was all just a trap? What if they were all being led and fed to some creature beneath the bar? He shook the thoughts away with a shake of his head and approached the doorway. Suddenly the air was cold and some sort of invisible force seemed to pull him into the darkness. He fought it enough to keep his balance but let it take him to the other side of the door and into a dingy corridor. He turned and waited next to the other adventurer for the others to follow suit...
 
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As the adventurers file through the door, an icy breeze meanders from further inside the dungeon, heightening the foreboding sense of dread that had already been established. The dark walls, roughly cut from the earth itself, was wide enough to fit three men shoulder-to-shoulder. As the last of the group walked into the dimly lit hallway, the door quickly slams shut with a bang. Upon inspection (and slight aggression), the team is soon to find that the door is locked, and refuses to budge from its position. A soft blue glow emanates from the woodwork's inscriptions, causing the area of the door to sheen a light blue. The hallway, lit by the occasional torch mounted on the wall by a metal sconce. The hallway itself seems to stretch on into the Abyss, as the light of the farther torches cannot be seen by the group in the distance. As our group of companions begin to coordinate themselves, possibly strengthening their resolve, a malicious laugh could be heard echoing around them. The laugh itself, almost coming from the walls, could not be recognized by any of the present company...
 
As Mordred entered the corridor he felt a sense of dread, but pushed it away not caring about the danger that would insue. He was about to adress the group when the door slammed shut. He didn't bother to check if it was locked remembering that tankard said this happened to the last group. Though when the symbols started glowing blue Mordred walked up and looked at them more closely. His eyes glew a faint yellow as he did. He could only understand a few of the symbols, but couldn't say exactly what it meant. Then out of nowhere he heard a malicious laugh echoed around them. Mordred looked at the group sternly trying to ignore the strange energy he felt around him,"We need to get moving. It's not safe to stay in one location to long and I don't want to fight something in a hallway",he stated walking further down the corridor.
 
Emmanuel puts on his hood and mask, and starts to follow the man who was leading the group. "As we are walking I would prefer to know your names, and skills, I like knowing whos gonna have my back, I'll start if you want; I'm Emmanuel, I'm mostly use my sword and bow. I can also sneak around, I've had my fair share of infiltration." As Emmanuel explain himself, he keeps a keen eye on the groups surrounding. Even though he won't admit it, he's been having chills since the door opened up. 'And that laugh... I have a feeling this ain't gonna be a normal dungeon...' Emmanuel clears his throat "Anyone else want to introduce themselves?"
 
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As our group of adventurers begins their journey in the torchlight through the hall, they see a distant glow of light. A voice can be heard shouting as they approach, "Do you have an OUNCE of respect for the dead? She keeps her belongings."


"The dead are dead. What good does she have for armor? Weapons?" A second voice replies aggressively. "Now move, before I make you get out of my way."


"I will not move, not for the likes of you or any man." The first voice retorts firmly.


The small party of adventurers quietly approach the room, now spying a large room filled with people, electric in the air.


(Please proceed to the main thread to interject with any actions until further notice)
 
Tolderin, almost much to his surprise, had little trouble getting down the stairs to the cellar. He was getting used to the leg, forgetting it was there at times. Which bode well considering that if what their host said was true, he had a lot of stomping ahead of him. He sipped the last drops of drink and wiped the foam from his beard, listening intently, and lighting his pipe.


He was patient and quiet. It seemed the man he snatched the letter from, had it for a purpose. Once an opportunity opened, he made his way to studying the map. His many years as a cartographer would come to use it seems.


As the story ended, he found his ears refreshed to hear someone say adventure was it's own reward. "Aye lad, that it is" he muttered silently.


And then briskly, the mysterious door swung open, and a grin took over his face. He patted his satchel, fastened the strap of his sheath, and stood up. Ignoring the gold upon the table he meandered to the doorway, "Reward or not" his grizzly voice boomed, "I came here because I refused to die behind a bar, or in the quiet of a bed." And with that, he followed behind a young man into the cavern.
 
Joined by the others, Larry begins to slowly walk down the endarkened hallway. Shivering from the cold he tries to observe the one he followed into the corridor. He's slightly taller than Larry and his face, as much as can make out in the dim light, looks youthful. He wonders if there's not an age limit on adventuring. Perhaps there should be. No sooner than the last soul has crossed the threshold, the door slams shut with a powerful force. It makes him jump. Did the others jump too? He hopes they didn't notice his reaction. Suddenly a voice is heard. It is quiet yet obvious. Honest yet insidious. It creeps though Larrys ears and into his mind. Something about a dead woman and how she shouldn't be looted or some such. He gulps down his fear and slows his walk, allowing the others with him to move slightly ahead...
 
Payton paused with great haste as the chill of the corridor sent shivers down his spine, he had come here out of curiosity. He was no stranger to death's cruel embrace, but his decision to blindly follow into this decrepit dungeon of intrigue, was questionable at best - perhaps even the worse decision he'd made yet - but alas, he remained all the same... His whole life was built upon the simple motto of 'High Risk, High Reward' and this was no different. Up until now he hadn't said a word, and he didn't intent to. He'd never, not once, operated in a group, or team. He'd be damned if he started now, chances were the majority of the current group were likely going to investigate the commotion beyond the door before them. If the sweet echo of combat was any distinction, it was favorable to avoid. These noble adventurers would likely kill each other, Payton was fine with that - as long as they weren't killing him.


Payton scoffed at that, he was smart. they probably weren't, he was best off alone. He didn't stick around to enter the door, rather, he crept off down a twisting side-path; he was a master of stealth, it would take someone with supernatural hearing to detect his departure. he was confident no such adventurer was present. Payton was a man of sound intlligence, he understood how dangerous these dungeons were - yet unlike most - he understood the majority who die in them are big muscled brutes, or arrogant sword-masters who think they're the gift of the gods. Whilst Payton was no master of combat, he was certainly no slouch. A spear, sword, and shield were helpful. But it was his wits, and subterfuge which really shined.


Besides, he wasn't prepared to share all the bountiful loot this great terror held. In fact, no matter what manner of beast lay within, h was confident in his ability to get by mostly undetected.If not, well, he was well accustomed to the occasional scuffle. Be it a duel, brawl, bandit ambush, or menacing ogre.
 
Payton, squeezing through what seemed to be a crack in the wall, after some time found himself in a large chamber. A large pool of water sat still to the left of him, glowing a light sheen of blue from something underneath. The glow produced light for vision in all of the cavern, revealing to this adventurer a large thing to the right of him. What seemed to be a a very large boulder at first, was a large beast of some sort, hairy in a nature but a face could not be seen. The giant ball of hair sat slowly expanding and contracting. The light also allowed our adventurer to notice another opening to the chamber, a door in a small hall carved in the rock opposite of him and across the large chamber.


@Archon
 
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So this is the place? It has been weeks of wondering. Why did it have to be so far and so hidden from that druid village I parted ways with my last team? Al'Duin was talking to himself as the gray sky covered his bulky and big physique with shadows. He pulled over the hood on his head to hide the fact that he was a dragonborn, but it was probably most noticeable by the large bulks that were protuding from his back or the fact that his stomps could be heard from yards across.


He sighed and opened thewooden doors of the tavern and wobbled inside with a clumsy, yet sturdy poise. As he walked into the bar, he ignored the constant gazes of the other patrons and sighed as he placed his both fists upon the wooden bar. His fists were big as footballs and covered in scars that left white marks onto his ebony body. Barman. Barman! Oi! Bring me the biggest tankard you can find. I'm a thirsty person and this paper has made me walk for miles to come here. He placed three golden coins onto the bar to get the attention of the barman


@The Inkeeper
 
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SUZY


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Finally , suzy has been wondering for hours , her feet were sour and she could barely lift them


she didn't mind it though , as nature had surrounded her , she was happy as long


as she was surrounded by it. Lifting her head a white colored butterfly was fluttering in front of .


Lifting her slim arms , the butterfly gladly perched on it .

" Why hello little one , isn't it a lovely day . " she smiled her crystal white teeth like snow


the butterfly flew of and sat on Suzy's nose as if to say 'goodbye ' as it flew of


Suzy waved "Goodbye " giggling she walked over to the wooden door , opening the doors with a loud squeak


walking in she lifted up the hem of her dress and entered


walking over to the stand " Excuse me , may I have a small amount of Tankard , that would be lovely . "


as she walked in further she bowed to the people who had been sitting down .


This was common in her country to do.

















 

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Tankard beamed at the large dragon-man standing before the bar, asking for an absurdly large tankard. Mister grabbed a large mug, one Tankard made himself for special guests, that was three times as large as the regular tankards that were given to the patrons of the bar. He then slowly watched as a thin foreign woman gracefully strode her way over to the bar, bowing the the sitting patrons as she passed. Tankard, being the large friendly bar-owner he was, approached the two as they received their drinks before exclaiming, "Ho there! You two must be from outta town, yer faces look new to me! Wouldn't happen to be lookin' for some adventure, would ya?" The last question dripping slightly with desperation, his eyes plead with the two before him. If they weren't there to dive into a dark unknown dungeon filled with monsters before, it would be difficult for them to say 'no' to the big, slightly pouty, Tankard.


@CALLA
 

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